Today’s special guest post comes from Twitter’s best funny fucker, The Sarcastialist. If you’re one of those daft cunts that doesn’t ‘do Twitter’ then you won’t know what we’re on about so you may as well just not even bother reading this.
Face: 90s GERMAN POPSTAR/LAB TECHNICIAN
Body: LIKE A NORMAL ONE BUT LITTLER
Arms: CAN’T REACH HIS POCKETS
Personality: BIG BABY
Distinguishing Features: CURRY SAUCE ALL DOWN HIM
Attainability: WHO’D WANT HIM
The thing about this fucking rat is he’s fit but he’s a proper mingebag. I met him in the Lobster Pot after a mad all-dayer (I’d gone into town to take about a million pairs of kecks back to Primark & found meself going straight to Coopers with the twenty quid I’d got back – long story but I got booted out for doing lines off the bar & tryna lick the mic while me Grandad was doing Wrecking Ball).
So I’m in the Pot ordering me food and this fucking whopper walks in and asks for the same thing I’m having – curry sauce, half rice, half chips. When the girl shouts the order I’m too busy texting me Ma to come and get me so I don’t hear it, and he says it’s his and fucks off with it – by the time I get outside to grab it off him he’s already dropped it on the deck. Now, at this point most gentlemen would be sound and say it’s alright – not this prick though. He goes back in and gets the other curry rice & chips and tries to fuck off with that as well, saying I’d pushed him over.
To be honest it’s a bit blurry after that, but the bizzies came and took a statement off both of us and he got put in an ambulance – I heard him tell the paramedic his name was Jonny, but you know he’s a fucking Jonathan. I’ll probably have to see him again next month when he gives evidence, but I’m pretty sure he knows it was his fault so it should be sound. I might even get the miserable twat to take me to San Carlo or something by way of an apology.